Back in November when I was ruining the Internet with my daily blog posts, I came up with a real gem for a potential topic – a post about hoods. Specifically, how much I love to wear hoods.
I wrote a few sentences about how I wear a hood almost every day at some point, and noted that my prime hood-wearing hours are 8-10 pm and 6-8 am.
It was pret-ty fascinating stuff, clearly. Hard to believe it didn’t make the cut.
At the time, my husband was itching to do a guest post for me, but I was reluctant to put him in the driver’s seat. This is a professional operation, pal – you can’t be any geek off the street. Gotta be handy with the keyboard, if you know what I mean. Earn your keep!
Bloggers, MOUNT UP.
So instead I gave him a drawing assignment. If he did well, he would lose the training wheels and earn the right to write.
Specifically, I tasked him with drawing a picture to accompany the conflict portion of my post, which is – I have trouble finding hoods that fit me properly. JAW-DROPPING, I KNOW. Many hoods stop short and don’t fully cover my head, because apparently I have the neck length of a baby giraffe.
Pretty interesting, no?……………………….? Wake up – I’m almost done.
Anyway, I was just going back through my
garbage drafts folder, and stumbled upon the picture that my husband drew:
Apparently this is what my husband thinks I look like.
He drew me as a zombie, because he is 12, but that still doesn’t explain why I look like a 50-year-old man. Thanks, dear, but NO POST FOR YOU.